Hemispherical Meltdown
by WindmillQuill
Summary: AU. Before Tsuna discovered he wasn't Iemitsu and Nana's son, life was miserable. Now, the Ninth's plans has him running on a narrow two-way road. The time to Meltdown has been set. Run Tsuna, or the sky's shadow will run up to YOU.
1. Countdown:Sky

Hi!

So this is OPTION B for "What do you think should replace 'The Sky Project'?"

This is what you voted for, a sort-of rewrite of KHR, but with 'interesting' conditions.

Yes, yes, the title, right... let's just say I have a knack for weird names.

'Tsuna can run, but he can never hide, for even the sky casts a shadow.'

NOTE: No pairings, really slight gore, hints of child neglect.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>If life were a jukebox, Sawada Tsunayoshi's would definitely be screeching now.<p>

* * *

><p>"I'm not…your kid?"<p>

* * *

><p>"Spare him, please!"<p>

* * *

><p>"NINTH!"<p>

* * *

><p>"DAD!"<p>

* * *

><p>"Run while you still can!"<p>

* * *

><p>"Kill that trash!"<p>

* * *

><p>And the most recent, "Where are you running, Da-me Tsu-na…?"<p>

* * *

><p>On a stormy night, two fates were decided.<p>

"WHAT?" A man whose blonde hair stood up in short spikes grabbed the doctor's front coat.

"Sawada Iemitsu-san, please calm down." The man in the white coat pleaded, trying his best to remain calm in the face of the enraged man.

The man drooped his head down after his glare started to fade into an expression of anguish. "Mind…repeating that again?"

A drop of cold sweat ran down the doctor's forehead. "W-well, due to complications, your son, Sawada Tsunayoshi, has passed away."

Iemitsu's released his grip on the doctor and slumped against the wall, quiet sobs emitted from his hunched figure. The doctor bowed his head and walked away with a shivering nurse.

Slowly, the broken man got up, footfalls padding up the stairs softly. He opened the bedroom door a crack.

On the bed, his wife, Nana, hugged a bandaged little toddler to her chest, tears dampening his blonde hair.

Nana often hugged Tsuna, there was nothing strange about that. Only-

-the little boy was dead cold.

* * *

><p>[In another place, at the same time]<p>

"COME OUT, SAWADA IEYATSU! WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!"

Yells that almost overpowered the heavy rainstorms outside echoed with the sounds of fists barraging against the door.

"Shit…And Lavina, Tsuyoshi, Ryoko, Hibari are unreachable now." Ieyatsu cursed under his breath.

"Ieyatsu-sama, what shall we do?" His companion asked, crouching behind the storage boxes with the brown-haired man.

"Fidelis, it seems this is the end. Take Tsunayoshi and run to Namimori." Ieyatsu instructed. Fidelis' expression grew into one of horror.

"But, Ieyatsu-sama, surely you don't mean to-"

"There's no time. They already got Hanari." He looked remorseful. "Go see my cousin, Fidelis. Take this note with you too." Ieyatsu thrust the sleeping boy and a letter sealed with a gold clam sticker into Fidelis' arms.

"Ieyatsu-sama…you…" Fidelis teared up.

The wooden double doors burst in from downstairs, snapping Ieyatsu back into action.

"GO! NOW FIDELIS! TO THE SAWADA HOUSEHOLD!"

* * *

><p>[The Sawada household, time unknown]<p>

"Nana." Iemitsu pushed the cup of tea towards his wife, "That's enough. It's been two days and you haven't eaten or drunk a single cup of water."

Nana, his usually sunnily cheerful wife, didn't say anything. Nor did she make any attempt to pick up the cup.

"Nana, whether we like it or not, we will have to arrange the procedures soon. It's for Tsuna's sake."

The soft chime of the doorbell broke through the thick silence.

Neither made a move to get up and answer the door.

Then they heard wails coming from outside. It had been raining ever since the day Tsuna died, and they still felt as gloomy as ever.

"Dear, I'll go get the door." Nana finally said.

She stood up and walked towards the door, and it was then that Iemitsu realized how much weight his wife lost in just two days.

He heard a gasp and ran towards her.

On their doorstep, a man was sprawled on the doormat, covered in scrapes and cuts and knife wounds. He was bleeding out, the rain washing reddish water over their porch.

But that wasn't just it. In his outstretched hands lay a crying bundle, one fidgeting to struggle free of the silk wrapped around his face.

Nana reached down to take the bundle from his arms and pulled off the hood. It was a bawling little boy who looked slightly younger than Tsunayoshi, with teary big brown eyes and spiky brown hair.

"Dear, there's a note."

Iemitsu's eyes narrowed when he saw the golden clam seal.

He popped it open.

"To my dear cousin Iemitsu,

If you have received this, it means I am no longer alive. This boy is Tsunayoshi, my only son. I know it will be strange for your Tsunayoshi to have a brother almost his age with the exact same name, but I am counting on you to take care of him from here on out. Fidelis shall take care of any other extra needs. It seems they have caught up to my family. I am well aware that you wanted nothing to do with Primo's legacy, and being born with the sun flame instead of the sky, you were excused to rid yourself of these ties and live your life peacefully in Namimori. Fear not, I am not asking you to reinvolve yourself with the Vongola's kingdom, but I plead of you to take care of Tsunayoshi. He's our last hope.

-Sawada Ieyatsu

"Dear, this boy…"

"Yes. He's part of the Vongola's royal bloodline. In other words, the Vongola prince."

"What did Ieyatsu want you to do, dear?"

"To take care of this boy."

"Oh." She shivered, and stood closer to her husband, cradling the crying child in her arms by instinct.

A moment passed in silence as Iemitsu bent down to confirm the man's death.

"What do we do, dear?"

"We'll have to babysit him. For now, anyway." He turned to get his gloves and dispose of the body.

"And Nana?"

"Yes?" His eyes held a sorrowful glint.

"Remember, that child is not our Tsunayoshi."

* * *

><p>[Italy, Vongola Palace, time unknown]<p>

"Massimo…you couldn't have…" The man, around 55, gasped in utter horror, taking a few steps back.

"But I did, Padre. I am deeply saddened, but I had to do this. Ieyatsu may have been planning an uprising." Massimo said, his head of black hair bowed.

"And…you killed the original prince, Tsunayoshi?"

"I merely sent a family tips that Ieyatsu was alive and living in Japan, Fukuoka, and they did the rest."

"But, did you?"

"Yes, Padre. The potentially dangerous heir, Sawada Tsunayoshi, aged two, has been confirmed dead by hospital records in Japan."

This proved to be a little too much for the Vongola Nono, Timoteo, who fell back into the support of the cushioned sofa.

"Vongola Nono!"

* * *

><p>[Ten years later]<p>

"You got praised for good effort? Such a small achievement and you were acting so stuck-up? Dame-Tsuna!" A tall boy with freckles towered over the crumpled boy's body, kicking him for the third time.

Raucous peals of laughter echoed in the brown-haired boy's ears as he tried to block out the pain shooting up his spine. Today's beating was rather extensive.

"Hey, I heard he has designs on Sasagawa Kyoko. This loser was drooling and staring at her all morning!" One of the faceless bullies added.

"Sasagawa Kyoko? The school's beauty? She's so out of your league, trash. You must be getting over-confident."

"Huh! And I heard he's so pathetic his own dad walked out on him and never came back!"

Tsuna's brown eyes flashed.

"So that's why no one comes on parent visitation day for him!"

"Your life is so cheap, Dame-Tsuna. Don't you think we should teach him where he stands?" One of them smiled, an idea coming into his head.

He picked up the fruit knife left on the table from home economics class.

The rest got the message, and hands started toward the sprawled boy's pants.

"W-wait…Wait! What are you going to do? NO, STOP!"

* * *

><p>[Later that night]<p>

It hurt. The cloth of his pants felt rough against his wounds. Tsuna placed a hand on the bathroom mirror as he leaned inwards, eyes hollow and reflecting none of the light in his room. Well, not that there was any light in his room but the evening's blue glow.

He trudged towards his bed and buried himself in the blankets, not bothering to wake his mom for dinner.

He lay there, in the intermission between consciousness and unconsciousness. Brain activity, close to zero.

"I want to die."

So was his only thought.

But what he really longed for was warmth.

* * *

><p>Time set for Meltdown: ?:00:00<p>

* * *

><p>And there we go, the first chapter of the story some of you voted for. Sorry I changed the title thrice.<p>

Thanks for reading and please review, I really need your input for the first three chapters.


	2. Countdown:Rain

Hi!

Two chapters in one go.

Because...because I think I may have no time to write in the first week after the new year.

Now let me explain part of the name, I was thinking of words that would be synonymous with catastrophe, because that is the general feel of this story.

In the previous chapter, NO Tsuna DID NOT get raped. Think a little bit. You might just find out. This is suspense after all.

Countdown:Rain

Yamamoto's turn!

* * *

><p>[Flashback]<p>

"Goddammit…the rain sure is heavy today…" Tsuyoshi muttered under his breath.

He had been out fishing, but he was forced to turn the boat around by ferocious cumulonimbus clouds.

The air crackled with thunder. This was no ordinary rain. Holy crap, what if it was-

Tsuyoshi struggled to halt his bicycle, the wheels having no friction to grasp on, on the rain-slicked road.

Figures. A young man with spiked blonde hair was running for his life, pursued by three men in black suits. The Varia's lightning squad. Trained assassins. So this is what caused such a storm.

Tsuyoshi ran towards the young man who was running from the turn and hauled him over his back like he would a large mackerel.

"Hey!" the young man protested, as Tsuyoshi ran towards his sushi shop with him in tow. The sword on his back rattled loudly as it kept knocking against the man's forehead.

"Oww!"

The assassins froze for a bit, then their leader shouted. "He's got reinforcements! Take them down!" They dashed towards the fleeing men.

"Lampo di Bianco!" They shouted. A blinding flash of white coursed through their swords.

Tsuyoshi flopped the man down on to the ground, swiftly unsheathing his sword and slashing at a nearby puddle. "Shigure Soen Ryuu: Second Form, Sakamaku Ame." The barrier of water seemed to block off the attack, and sprayed into their faces as it burst apart.

'Alright! Now, while they're distracted!'

"Shigure Soen Ryuu: Fifth Form, Samidare."

The surge of water sent all the Varia troops sprawling.

Tsuyoshi's thoughts snapped to an assassin stalking up behind him, the only one carrying a Varia crest on his uniform. The leader.

'Shit!' He'd left his back open.

But the attack never made contact, for behind him, a blur of dripping wet blonde hair and a fist intercepted the sword-spike thing. But that wasn't the most shocking thing.

On the young man's forehead blazed a strong, bright orange flame.

"That's amazing…" he found himself muttering.

"What are you all lying around for? Attack!" The leader's brow furrowed in irritation when the men made no movement.

"That does it. Ciclone di Fulmine!"

The winds whipped harshly around the duo, and the lightning cracked down harder than it had before.

'Goodness…this is a small typhoon…' Tsuyoshi held a hand to shield his face from the onslaught of rain showers. The rain felt like it was stabbing the two of them.

"In that case…" He edged closer to the core of the typhoon, where it was slightly warmer. He could vaguely make out the faded shadow of the black-cloaked leader.

His right hand clutched the hilt of his sword with the blade pointing backwards,left hand clasped over the other, and charged towards that area.

Directing the heavy rain and fierce winds over the flow of his sword, he whipped out the blade using his left hand and slashed the assassin overhead.

"Guahh!" the man let out before collapsing.

The sky began to clear again.

Tsuyoshi turned his attention once again to the spiky-haired man, whose back was facing him. "Oh yeah, so why were the Varia after-" He hadn't enough time to finish his sentence before the man collapsed.

"O-oi!" he hurried over and shook the man slightly. The man only let out a small groan of pain.

Tsuyoshi sighed and plonked the man onto his bicycle.

* * *

><p>The man stirred to find two inquisitive brown eyes staring at him.<p>

"Oh, you're awake. Have some tea."

The man gratefully accepted the cup of tea offered as he sat up.

"Say now, what was that flame on your head back then?"

"Hm? Oh, it seems I finally managed to activate Hyper dying will mode. I must have passed out from the pain of having used it for the first time. Now that I mention it, you saved me then, didn't you?"

"Oh! Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself." he chuckled light-heartedly as he held out his hand. "The name's Yamamoto Tsuyoshi. Nice to meet you."

The man took his hand awkwardly and shook it. "Sawada Ieyatsu. Nice to meet you. And thank you for taking care of me."

"You were quite something back there. Are you a master swordsman?"

Tsuyoshi scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "Master? No, no, far from that. I made up that attack on the spot just now. I think I'll call it Spraying Rain, the eighth form of the Shigure Soen Ryuu."

"Cool."

"Not nearly as cool as that 'hyper dying will mode'. You stopped such a fast sword's strike with your bare hands." He commended. "And excuse me for asking, but why are the Varia after you?"

"The Varia? I don't know about them. As for why people would chase after me…" Ieyatsu seemed thoughtful for a moment, resting his chin on the rim of the cup of tea. "Can you keep a secret, Tsuyoshi-san?"

Tsuyoshi smiled. "I swear it on my sword."

"Well, I'm the descendant of the first head of the Vongola family."

"Mafia?"

"Well, not quite. This family rules over Italy, and the head is like the king. In other words, royalty."

"Woah."

"I don't blame you if you find this unbelievable. The First was driven out of the Vongola palace by one of the family's strongest, Ricardo the Furious. He was crowned the second king of Vongola after the First and his six guardians fled to Japan. That was hundreds of years ago."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But the descendants of the Second are still coming after the descendants of the First, because they fear that we will some day strike against the palace and attempt to regain our control over the Family. Every last one of us, my father, grandfather, and so on, have been killed shortly after the birth of their children. It is the fate of those in our bloodline."

"Why? Why would they be so insistent on wiping all of you out?"

"I have been the only heir since the First's time to discover the truth. The objects that symbolize the king's official rule over Italy and the Vongola, the Vongola rings, can only be awakened to their true form if worn by those of the First's bloodline. And from what I've found, it seems that the true forms of the Vongola rings are almost frighteningly powerful."

"So that's it? Your family are being slaughtered over some rings?"

Ieyatsu gave him a sad smile. "That is how the Vongola has become nowadays. Selfish, cruel, corrupt…true mafia."

"That sounds bad…"

"It truly is."

"Don't worry about it then! With me around, I'll be sure you'll live to a ripe age." Tsuyoshi held out his cup of tea.

Ieyatsu blinked, but smiled and clinked his cup of tea against the other's.

"You telling me we'll be friends for life? Even though we just met, Tsuyoshi-san?"

"Maybe! I don't know what it is, but something about you just draws me in."

"Speaking of drawing in, what is that smell?"

Tsuyoshi looked surprised. "You can smell it? Few can recognize smell it from afar, the smell of steamed sushi rice!"

"Sushi?"

"Yeah, we're on the second floor of my home. The first floor is Takesushi, my sushi eatery."

"You own a sushi eatery?"

"Oh, you must be hungry, right? Come on, I'll prepare some sushi for you downstairs. My treat!"

"Thanks so much!"

* * *

><p>[Flashback end]<p>

"Givro eterna amicizia, eien no yuujou ka?" Tsuyoshi mutters, running his thumb over the words inscribed into the hilt of his sword.

_'Yeah! It is the will passed down from generation to generation, that we will never forget those who have protected us, and in turn protect them.'_

"Sorry, Ieyatsu. I was unable to protect you." The frown lines on Tsuyoshi's face had deepened over the years, after the six friends had lost their sky.

When Ieyatsu had been attacked, Tsuyoshi was pacing around a hospital room, praying fervently for the safety of his wife, Midori Hatake (Green Fields, haha). Unfortunately, she was taken away by an incurable illness.

When he went to Ieyatsu's home to deliver the solemn news, he found a few attendants dead and Ieyatsu himself sprawled on the floor, neck slashed cleanly.

Takeshi (take the 'Take' from Hatake, and the 'shi' from Tsuyoshi) was too young to understand anything then. He was the same age as Tsunayoshi, and Tsuyoshi was hopeful that the boys would grow up together. It seemed that fate had decided to take Ieyatsu's little boy away after all.

Of course, little did he know that Tsuna was still alive.

The wooden door to Takesushi slid open. "I'm home. Oyaji? What are you doing, spacing out?"

Tsuyoshi quickly put away the sword. "Aah, Takeshi! So how was school?" He asks quickly, putting on a smile.

Takeshi grinned at him, jaw taut. "The usual… you know, baseball practice was fine too!" But he quickly spun around and started up the stairs. "I'll be in my room for a while…could you wait a little for me to come down and help you?"

But he didn't wait for a reply.

Tsuyoshi frowned. He knew that lately, his son wasn't very motivated at school. His enthusiasm was dying down.

* * *

><p>Takeshi slid into his room before falling on his butt in exhaustion, his back leaning against the wall.<p>

He cradled his batting arm in the other.

"It's no good, I can't get my arm into shape for the game..." he muttered, staring off into space.

"I don't think I'll be able to play baseball without this arm."

And then a despairing thought hit him.

'But what is my life...without baseball?'

* * *

><p>Time set for Meltdown: ?:?1:00<p>

* * *

><p>One Clue down!<p>

I wonder what it is about this story that makes me so excited.

Poor Yama, although I don't think many of us understand him, him and his little baseball-revolving world.

Please tell me what you thought about this in a review! Thanks!

Bye!


	3. Countdown:Storm

Hi!

Thanks for the reviews today (4).

Past 1 am, I bring you the third chapter. Tomorrow, there will be two chapters for the countdown of sun and mist.

By the way, have you seen the japanese characters for meltdown? It's so pretty. Okay, then again, I think a lot of languages are pretty, including my recent (this year's) fascination with English (Must capitalise, www). I'm so weird, haha. But that way it makes it easy for me to learn Italian, French, Chinese and even English.

**(to Taira-keimei):** Oops, sorry. I'm going to try to make it clearer now, okay?

**(to dolphinherovamp5):** Haha, thanks. You're the only one who bothered to comment on both chapters.

I'm really sorry about the unedited crap last chapter okay? Let's just say I drew inspiration when Yama's dad's 8th style was invented by himself while saving a friend during a typhoon. I was thinking, "It's so awesome, it shouldn't have been against a normal typhoon right?" and then I made the friend Tsuna's dad.

This chapter is comparably shorter than the others, because Gokudera's past has been more or less explained, and we've sort of heard his whole family's history.

So, enjoy!

* * *

><p>[17 years ago, Namimori, Japan, 2:00pm]<p>

"So…you're leaving Japan?"

A brown-haired man stood facing a woman three years younger than him on the railway platform, one he had come to accept as a younger sister figure over the years. The silver-haired woman had a blissful smile on her face, surrounded by luggage bound for Italy.

"Yes, Ieyatsu. I'm sorry, against your advice, I fell in love with him anyway."

The man stepped forward to pull the half-Italian, half-Japanese woman into a tight farewell hug. "Don't be, silly. I believe some things are beyond our control, and isn't supposed to be decided by someone like me."

He pulled back, encircling arms retracting.

"You'll keep in contact, right?"

"Yes, you can count on that."

She stepped into the shinkansen as the doors parted. "See you next time, Ieyatsu."

"Goodbye, Lavina."

* * *

><p>Letters were exchanged via post as the months passed by.<p>

One day, Ieyatsu received a letter from Lavina. It said that she was expecting a baby boy.

The man eagerly wrote back asking when he could come over to congratulate her, and if he could be the "uncle". However, she never replied.

It was the last he'd heard of her.

* * *

><p>Gokudera was eight when he found out his mother's identity. It was also the same day he heard of her death. Coincidentally, it was also the same day he ran away from home- no, he couldn't call it a home, rather a house filled with red-haired people with <em>lieslieslies<em> stitched to their faces and deceitful, poisonous offerings.

Gokudera was nine when he'd been thrown out of the residence of a lecherous, eccentric doctor. It was also the same day he started living on the streets.

Gokudera was fourteen when he became an illegal immigrant, crossing over to Japan to enter Namimori middle as a student.

This year, Gokudera is fifteen.

* * *

><p>[Present Time, Namimori, Japan, 6:00pm]<p>

"Come back here, young man! Burning up teacher's statements will not be tolerated!"

Gokudera ignored the screeching professor in favor of walking off the school grounds.

Hands in his pockets, he passed by the sides of the baseball field slowly, almost sluggishly so.

A young teenager, probably Gokudera's age, with black, spiked hair raised the bat above his head in preparation for his swing. His eyes, fiery with determination, suddenly went out of focus when a first-year stumbled into his path. In order to stop his swing from sending the boy flying, the batter immediately forced his arm backward, twisting it in the process. He winced in a split-second, but it flashed away as his teammates surrounded him.

"Are you okay?" Was the concerned question reverberating around him. He nodded and gave them a grin, and Gokudera immediately turned away in disgust because he could tell from one glance it was fake- it looked so plastic it probably belonged to a mannequin in its previous life.

Gokudera was quite a while away from the school by now, and he passed an alley.

One of those stove-tabletops on wheels used for home economics lessons- Gokudera presumed the boys had stolen it to wheel out (abduct) the boy they were now mercilessly beating to a pulp out of the school unnoticed.

The boy was curled up like a resigned cat preparing for its death. He looked weak and scrawny and was literally covered in bruises. Occasionally whimpering when someone yelled a long, innovative insult down his eardrums.

Gokudera made no move to save the boy from his assaulters, and instead continued on his original path.

'I hate this world.' Was his constant thought. He couldn't trust anyone, because they could pose a threat, no matter how close they were to you. Classmates, "friends" and the like, it didn't matter. The strong picked on the weak. Fight your way out or be eaten. Such is the way of life he learned while in Italy.

He reached his apartment where he lived a solitary lifestyle for a few years. The white-painted, spotless walls looked grey despite the general sense of cleanliness in the house. A lone coffee mug sat on a table which was unusually cluttered with magazines, their content for fans of the supernatural.

The house looked so…lonely.

Gokudera ran a hand through his sliver hair fashioned in a style he hadn't been bothered to change since he was nine.

He was searching for…trust.

* * *

><p>Time set to Meltdown:?:21:00<p>

* * *

><p>Well, I preferred this chapter. More...tidy, but way way less dialogue.<p>

Review if this perked your interest.

See you tomorrow (I won't really 'see you' but you understand right?)!


	4. Countdown:Mist

Hi!

I'm getting mixed feelings in here, do people like this? I mean sure there are a lot of alerts but only, 3? people have reviewed so far? And one or two aren't that happy with the story I guess. Do tell!

I'm sorry, Sun will be posted tomorrow instead, because I forgot I was supposed to visit a friend.

**(to dolphinherovamp5):** Ha, I just noticed that your most recent story is coincidentally named "Countdown" too. Thanks for your continued response. Gokudera...can't find it within himself to be passionate towards others yet. He needs to see that he can trust people first, before he does deeds that will make others trust him.

In any case, here's Mist's chapter.

* * *

><p>Mukuro didn't know who his parents were. In the very least, he had a faint recollection of sending them to hell.<p>

[More than ten years ago]

"Is there anyone back there?" The woman whispered. Her shaking hands rested upon the shoulders of her blue-haired, five-year-old child. Her partner tried to comfort her and held her cheek with his left hand when she kept turning around, casting furtive glances behind her.

"No, dear. You're just hallucinating. Calm down."

Little Mukuro's eyes were smoldering, raging indigo depths narrowing with each word spoken. How dare his parents do something like this to him!

A man appeared, carrying a large briefcase over his shoulder. He wore a ratty white coat that probably hadn't seen detergent its whole life. He gestured for them to approach, and Mukuro struggled as they pushed him forward.

The suitcase was thrown onto the ground, a puzzled scowl given in return and the couple bent down eagerly to count the money.

The man took the boy by his _filthy_ hand. It was too late for escape.

* * *

><p>[Six Hells later]<p>

"Musunde, Hiraite, and Rasetsu, are you to follow me after this?" Mukuro questioned them, left eye with the prominent kanji "6" staring creepily at them.

A rolling laugh echoed within the blood-stained lab room. "Oh my, you really went ahead and did it, didn't you Mukuro? You killed them all." Then Rasetsu became serious. "However, you're joking if you expect us to follow you."

"If you don't then you're a threat to me."

Blood was spilled.

The door was hesitantly creaked open a few minutes later to reveal two boys around Mukuro's age, one wearing specs, the other with spiky sandy-coloured hair.

The bespectacled boy had bandages tightly wrapped around his head, and clung tightly onto the other's shirt.

The two boys watched, a bit fearful, as Mukuro turned his head towards them, surrounded by countless corpses, their blood glinting in the green glow on the walls.

"It would be best to destroy this world." he muttered, ripping off the bandage to reveal a red eye. "Would you like to come along with me?" He said in a pleasant tone, as if he had not just been part of a massacre. Fear shone in their stunned expressions, but a hint of-was that hope?- was undoubtedly present.

* * *

><p>[Nine years later, Namimori, Japan]<p>

"We've arrived." Mukuro announced, his two followers trailing behind him.

"Huh? The heck are you doing here, pretty boy?" One of the Kokuyo high gang-involved students growled out.

"Mukuro-sama's here to take over this school, yon!" The sandy-haired man behind Mukuro yelled.

"Mukuro? As in corpse! Hah, don't make us laugh!" And as if it were on cue, the whole gang burst out in wolfish laughter.

Mukuro took a step forward and the whole room tensed at the shift of atmosphere.

"Unfortunately, I don't have much time for jokes today."

* * *

><p>[One month later, Namimori, Japan, Kokuyo Health Land, 3:00pm]<p>

"Mukuro-sama, what are we going to do now that we've got the whole school under our control?" Quiet, mild-mannered Chikusa voiced out suddenly.

The two of them, dressed in dark-green uniforms unique to Kokuyo High, were alone in the room.

"Ah, well…I've just noticed the presence of a very…interesting individual amidst this town." Mukuro glanced out of the smashed windows. Kokuyo Health Land wasn't the grandest building in existence. It looked abandoned, and was damaged to the point one would have suspected it had suffered a minor bomb blast.

The carpets had burnished, dark spots and the walls had holes in them. But that was just the way Mukuro liked it. Nobody in their right mind would wander into it, and if they happened to…kufufufu…

Well, it would not be a pleasant sight.

And the Kokuyo students, which now had taken to groveling at Mukuro's feet (not literally) generally steered clear of that building.

None of those buffoons would realize how chained down Mukuro still felt about his past.

* * *

><p>He wanted freedom…<p>

…No, he wanted the world.

He would take it, and then crush it.

* * *

><p>Time set for Meltdown: ?3:21:00<p>

* * *

><p>Eh...cookies if you noticed the reference.<p>

I'm sorry, I couldn't resist throwing it into the mixing pot.

Okay, I'm going to retire for the night now.

It's past one. I always have the habit of writing late into the night. It can't be helped.

Bye!


	5. Countdown:Sun

Hi!

I must apologize, this chapter is short because I wrote the cloud's one first and then this in the same day, so I ran out of ideas then.

I was wondering what Ryohei would be missing, and I don't think the following chapter would represent that.

Hopefully, it's still okay. The story is moving really slowly now, but it becomes really fast later.

..vocabulary.

Would any of you guess I'm not a native English speaker?

**(to ezcap1st):** Hi, nice name you got there. It stands for 'escapist', does it not? Ahaha...*scratches head* well, only the "Musunde, Hirate, Rasetsu to Mukuro" part is an intended Vocaloid reference. I wrote three chapters of this story before I saw Meltdown by . When I saw it, I thought..."Well. That's just...that's just...ah." But if you want, I could definitely blend in more references.

Happy New Year, everyone! I'll be writing until the third, then I'll update slower. Sorry about that.

* * *

><p>[Sixteen years ago, Namimori]<p>

"Take care of yourself now." The brown-haired man's eyebrows were knitted in an expression of worry for the sickly white-haired man.

"It'll be okay. It has always been good up till now, right?" His ever optimistic speech did little to ease Ieyatsu, who slipped away.

Little is known of Ryohei's mother, but his father has always been around. Ryohei can feel his presence in the air.

* * *

><p>[Ten years ago, Namimori]<p>

Seven-year-old Ryohei clutched his father's hand tightly, not really wanting to the words to slip out of his dad's mouth, for it felt he was fading faster with each puff.

Kyoko was still at playschool when his father called for him.

"Ryohei, my boy. Listen, I regret so bad that I couldn't live my life to the maximum, or else you and Kyoko would be much happier now. Take care of Kyoko and live life extremely alright?"

He stilled before Ryohei could finish his response.

If Ryohei was close to Kyoko before his dad died, he was stuck with glue to her side after the incident. They got by on brother-sisterly love and their dad's fortune.

* * *

><p>A year later, Kyoko was kidnapped by seniors who found Ryohei an eyesore.<p>

"What do you want with my sister?" He'd yelled when he rushed straight to the meeting-point. "Let Kyoko go!"

The seniors laughed and bashed up Ryohei so bad, his skull cracked.

"ONII-CHAN!" Little Kyoko cried, holding on tightly to her brother's hand. She was afraid he would go too, leaving her alone.

"I'm okay…Kyoko." he breathed out, taking her hand in his.

"Promise me you won't fight again!" Kyoko demanded innocently.

"Okay, I extremely promise that."

Of course, what he'd meant to say was that he wouldn't be as violent, but he would need to fight under certain circumstances. He was a man, after all.

* * *

><p>When Ryohei entered middle school, he became the boxing club's captain, because he needed to let off all the energy coiled within him. He trained every day, and it was hard because he was becoming too extreme to control himself.<p>

The days strained by and the need for an outlet became increasingly pressing.

He tried to convince as many people as he could to join the boxing club, especially those who he saw potential in, so that he could have a round with them without upsetting Kyoko.

He'd thought his juniors all he could with his um, limited head capacity. But none of them could match up to his strength and living life to the extreme now felt like a chore.

Don't get him wrong, seeing Kyoko was all it took to brighten up his day. But he wanted someone who could make him feel relaxed, who could dim out the sun's glow a little. He felt strangely tired and energized at the same time, because of the energy pent up within him, from his desire to do all things to the maximum, like his dad wanted him to.

He was tired of glowing, really. He wanted to be extreme, but he needed someone who could balance that.

* * *

><p>Time set for Meltdown: ?63:21:00<p>

* * *

><p>...Well, Ryohei the overly extreme man. I hope I wrote that right. But then again, this <strong>is<strong> an AU. OOC Ryohei is fine as long as I keep his character constant.

To look forward to tomorrow: "My name is Lambo, your name is Lambo, who am I? I'm Lambo! Who are you? You are Lambo!"

AND

"Don't crowd in my school."

That much is pretty self-explanatory isn't it? After tomorrow, the countdown part will be OVER! Yes. So look forward to the start of the actual storyline.

Bye!


	6. Countdown:Lightning

Hi!

How's everyone's three days of holidays coming along? Filled with the fluff of family reunion? Loads of postcards and other greeting cards pushed back and forth (wait this sounds a little wrong)?

If you share my nationality, then today,too, would be your last day of break.

**(to ezcap1st):** Thank you ~(^,^)~

**(to xXxIRISxXx):** Glad you like the story, thanks.

* * *

><p>"OI, brat! Come back here!" The Bovino henchmen shouted.<p>

"Gyahahahaha!" Lambo sprung up onto a hedge, turning around to wiggle his bum at the men and stick out his tongue. "Akam-biih! You will never catch Lambo-san!"

"You little-AFTER HIM!"

This is Bovino Lambo, the 5-year-old mystery.

Lambo-san doesn't have parents. He was born into the Bovino family, and raised to be one of their men.

Unfortunately, they were not amused by his…interesting pranks. He was a bundle of mischief, and they'd thought there would be some hope for the boy as a hitman when he stole grenades and weaponry, but when they found the carnage he'd wrecked upon their base…well.

The other men would only ever regard him as a lackey, and had taken to a most cruel hobby.

Whenever Lambo did something wrong or to the extent that he annoyed one of the famiglia, they'd hold him over a lightning rod and he'd be electrocuted. It was a miracle the child was still alright, perhaps his skin had developed a resistance to the current over the years. For this same reason, however, the boy's natural straight hair fluffed up into an afro-like puff.

Although, it only seemed to help his "kleptomania". (He doesn't really have that, he's just cheeky.) Lambo could stuff the stolen items in his afro, and conceal them from the other men. Too bad for Lambo, they already blamed whatever misdeed happened on him. Lambo just tries to hold in his pain with his mantra of "Gotta keep calm, gotta keep calm", though most times unsuccessful.

Lambo is getting tired. He wants to be hugged, so he'll whine for it. But instead of warm, extended arms, the little boy gets a smack in return for his efforts. He wants attention, wants someone to play with him so he can release all that voltage of child-like zeal bubbling within him.

He seeks to confirm his identity constantly, singing in his head, that he is Lambo, his reflection is Lambo, his shadow is Lambo, his hair will be Lambo.

Because that's who he is.

_"Who am I? I am Lambo! Who are you? You are Lambo!"_

Don't make him repeat that.

* * *

><p>Lambo hummed his tune again, skipping merrily along the path back to the Bovino mansion.<p>

He grinned to himself. Perhaps they hadn't noticed that he'd stolen the shiny-shiny, purple thing in the Boss' room, encased in glass.

_"What? The ten-year-bazooka has been stolen? The family's treasure was taken so easily? By whom?"_

_"That's what we're trying to find out! Hey, you think it might have had something to do with the kid?"_

_"No. I saw him leave the mansion this afternoon. Didn't have anything on him."_

_"Ah, whatever. This is the best opportunity to get rid of the menace."_

When Lambo entered the lobby, he saw two men hunched over a table, discussing something face-to-face.

"Stupid Gavino! Lambo is hungry!" He shouted, face alight with glee.

The addressed man and the other he was speaking to turned around, and suddenly something in their expressions set.

"Oi, kid!" Gavino shouted, feigning an air of authority . "You stole the family's treasure, didn't you!"

The other man nodded, expression grave. "That's right! We'll be merciful, so we won't hurt you if you scram from our sights now!"

"B-but Lambo-san didn't do anything wrong!" The kid's expression turned from blank, to that of confusion, to that of angry, snot-nosed and red-faced denial.

"GET LOST!"

And just like that, Lambo was sent running from his family.

* * *

><p>When he ran approximately 500 metres away, he got tired and sat on his butt. He started bawling his eyes out. "Gotta be calm…gotta be calm!" Then after rubbing his eyes red, he opened them again and seemed to only notice his predicament for the first time. "I can't!" As if his arms had a will of their own, he pulled out the bazooka and dropped in on himself, his form sliding into the bazooka as it fired in a cloud of pink smoke.<p>

An older teen with straighter hair that curled a little at the ends stood up from where the crying child once was. He was rather attractive, handsome even. The collar of his cow-print shirt hung unbuttoned, and he stood up to dust off his brown corduroy pants.

"My, my." This mysterious man yawned. "Italy, this must be. Oh well, before my time is up I'd better get onto a ship headed for Japan."

With that plan, he walked off.

* * *

><p>Five minutes later, little Lambo found himself stuck in the cargo cabin of a cruise ship en route to Giappone.<p>

A small piece of paper lay beside him, and he realized it was a full-page photo of a very, very, dangerous man.

"The hitman Reborn! Maybe those idiots were kidding around with Lambo-san, and this is a mission! I'll kill this Reborn, and then I can go home!"

But despite his proclamation, he was lost, and undeniably scared.

* * *

><p>He was looking for a place to call home.<p>

* * *

><p>Countdown data unidentifiable-?<p>

Event in past missing.

Unlocated.

Unlocated.

* * *

><p>If you refer to the names mentioned by Ieyatsu in Chapter 1, you'll realise he has never had contact with Lambo's would-be parents. Therefore, there is no "past event".<p>

Oh and by the way, I forgot to type this, but Ryohei's dad's name is Ryoko Sasagawa. Couldn't come up with anything better.

Don't forget to read the other chapter, I posted two today!

Bye!


	7. Countdown:Cloud

Hi!

This is one of the longer chapters. Because there's so many blanks in Hibari's portfolio. And wow, was this hard to write. Okay, it was not exactly challenging, but I'd run out of ideas for their pasts.

Umm, it would be a little late now, but I would never claim to own Katekyo Hitman Reborn and steal Amano-san's rights.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Hibari sat up abruptly, eyebrows twitching. He settled two left fingers on his temple.<p>

Settled wouldn't really be the most appropriate word, he all but ground his fingers into his forehead.

Getting up from his futon, he dressed, shirt sharply ironed, jacket hanging off his shoulders, suit immaculate.

As he picked up his cup of tea, he heard a light chirping sound, and held out his other hand for the yellow canary to land.

"Hibari! Hibari!" It chirped.

He sifted through his mail. Not much, mind you, for few knew his address and even less dared to mail him.

Most of it was related to his work in the disciplinary committee, but in between two envelopes tumbled out one brightly-patterned postcard. It had an illustration of birds in a nest on it.

"Blessings to your family in the new year." It read.

Hibari twitched, and ripped the postcard into unrecognizable shreds.

He knew who it was from, but it bugged him that he was never able to trace it.

It was from the man who murdered his family.

* * *

><p>[Flashback]<p>

Four-year-old Kyouya shivered.

From across his room in the traditional-style house, his father and an unknown brown-haired man were speaking. Whatever it was that they were discussing, the conversation became more heated by the second.

Hibari's father was a man of great dignity, respected by all in his community. He was the founder of a certain school in Namimori. He had few words for anyone, so if he had talked to this man for hours, it would be an indication of how important he was to his father.

For some reason that Kyouya could not summon to his memory, he had promptly refused his father's invitation to follow him to the school on one day.

Instead, he ran far, far away until his legs grew tired and he collapsed.

It must have had something to do with his mother; Kyouya dearly loved his mother. He tried his best to uphold his father's pride, because his mother smiled at him assuringly every time he did so. She combed his hair back on his birthday, so it wouldn't look like his dad's, roughly sticking up in points (like Adult Hibari).

He kept it that way.

His world crumbled the day he returned, legs muddy and scratched, clothes soaked from the heavy rain that day (clue), to the school. He found a horrible scene in the reception room.

His mother, with countless fang/claw marks on her body, breathing ceased and usually lively steel-grey pupils dilated, and his father with-oh god, it was better not to mention it. His jaws looked like they'd been forcefully ripped apart, body horribly mangled.

An innocuous-looking glass bottle lay on the table, filled with a clear-coloured liquid. There was a note stuck to it. And when Kyouya could tear his gaze away from them, he read it.

"Drink this if you want the illusion to fade away."

He reached for the bottle, when a yellow whiz flew into the window and knocked down the bottle.

It crashed to the floor, contents spilled and hissing. Poison.

"Hibari, Hibari." it chirped.

It settled on his hand and he unconsciously snuggled it into his chest. He wasn't sure when, but a crowd had gathered, murmuring, none daring to outstretch a hand to the disorientated boy.

He couldn't think, surrounded by the dense layers of mutterings all around him. He wanted them to go away. It was too noisy. He can't think straight. Stop crowding around him!

And when his shaking gaze landed once again on the gruesome bodies of his parents as white-dressed people began to pick up the corpses, his mind reached out to an unknown thought.

He will bite the murderer to death.

* * *

><p>Hibari returned to the school which was renamed. Namimori school would always have a place in his heart.<p>

To grant himself peace of mind, he came back after he had prematurely graduated from pre-university (Hibari was unbelievably smart) and forced his way into the disciplinary committee. They required a little, um, persuasion.

And before he knew it, it was all under his thumb. He would use its power to ward off any crowding in the school. And no one else would have the renovated reception room.

The tonfas came as a natural.

Hibari was a really neat person, and disliked brawling with his fists because it got his hands dirty.

"Degenerates…you're crowding on school grounds after school hours." He growled at the mass of students who were having a -dare he say such an audacious word- gathering in the gym. They were having drinks and making way too much noise, their rambunctious laughter was heard by Hibari from a while away.

He grabbed the pair of steel weapons, which for some reason was left abandoned there, and gave the ruffians a sound beating.

But…

Though Hibari loved the quiet, days just went by with him not being able to hone his skills enough.

* * *

><p>He was searching for someone he could hold in high regard like the brown-haired man was to his dad.<p>

Someone who could be company without feeling like a rowdy crowd.

Someone who was strong, in more than one sense of the word.

* * *

><p>ERROR. ERROR. 333333.333333333.<p>

Hour cap not exceeding ninety-nine. Previous relevance to "3:00:00" unidentifiable.

Time set for Meltdown: ?3:21:00

OVERHEAT.

* * *

><p>Can you guess who the murderer is?<p>

Okay, really giddy now. Hibari the slightly agoraphobic prefect. Wao.

Oh yeah, the numbers in the last paragraph is a huge clue. I'll tell you either the next chapter or two chapters from now.

Next chapter is when it all starts!

See you then.

Bye!


	8. Reactor Overload

Hi!

I have not much time left and you'll hear from me very soon, so I'll answer all questions in the next chapter.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p>The boy with infamously bad luck stood with his clothes slung over his shoulder, and his pants sagged around his ankles.<p>

He hadn't wanted to go to school today, it being the annual school festival, but they were mysteriously short on people, so Tsuna had to fill in, much to his classmates' disapproval. Standing in the changing room, he hung his clothes over the top of the door.

Then he heard footsteps and giggles approaching, and instinctively shrunk back. He knew those voices anywhere. Mochida and his gang.

He hoped beyond hope that they wouldn't discover him in the changing room, and he crouched into the corner, closing his eyes tight.

"Hey, isn't this the pants that Dame-Tsuna was wearing earlier on?"

His heart stopped.

Fortunately for him, after a round of horrid, malicious laughter, the boys could be heard leaving the changing room.

Tsuna breathed a ragged sigh of relief as he forced himself to his shaky feet.

Then he froze when he patted the top of the door.

His clothes were gone, and with them the knight costume his teacher had picked out for him.

Oh, crap.

He frantically looked around the semi-empty racks for any clothes.

Tsuna's heart skipped a beat in hope when he saw an ensemble of orange cloth at the back.

He tugged it out, and gaped at it in horror.

A Kimono.

Wasn't this a boy's changing room? Tsuna's mind was clouded over with worries. He considered his options, which were limited to two.

One- to run out in his boxers and be mercilessly jeered.

Two- to wear this and run straight home with the blue shawl over his head and hope that he wouldn't be recognized. If that happened, he could only imagine the amount of teasing that would go on for weeks. But there was a chance- no matter how improbable.

Choosing the lesser of two evils, Tsuna slid the orange kimono sloppily over his head, and tied the sash with shaking hands.

Giving his hair a quick rake to flatten it back, he took a deep breath and wrapped the translucent shawl around his face.

It's now or never.

* * *

><p>Oh, he had really done it now.<p>

Just a few hours ago, Yamamoto had been to the doctor about the arm which was haunting him.

It was broken. The doctor put it into a cast after examining it and diagnosed a rest of a month.

A month. That would mean he would be out of action for the big game.

A broken arm before a tournament meant only one thing to him- doom.

If he couldn't have baseball, he wouldn't have anything else.

Standing behind a column in the school, he slowly raised the sword to his neck.

* * *

><p>Tch. Compulsory attendance my ass.<p>

Gokudera Hayato was not a happy man. He had been forced into some knight suit by blazing fan girls, who he finally managed to ditch after a few minutes of hot pursuit, which felt like hours.

He passed a column and heard a metallic clatter as a sword fell to the ground. What the hell-

"-were you trying to do, you idiot?"

The spiky-haired fool from the other day was frozen in place, until he bent down and picked up the sword. The moment he lifted his face, there was that hideous deceiving smile again. "Ahaha, practicing Kendo?" he laughed.

"Don't give me that shit." And his face fell. "You either really suck at kendo and have your stance all wrong, or you were trying to commit suicide."

Gokudera's expression grew dangerous. "In which case, I can help you along your way." He drew out a few sticks of dynamite from the front of his shirt, and swiftly lit them along the igniter between his lips.

"Rest in Peace." And with that, the dynamites were flung towards Yamamoto.

* * *

><p>Tsuna, who was swiftly on his way now, retreated behind the school's gate, to find a white-haired boy flinging explosives at the school's baseball idol, looking helpless with his free hand bound in a cast.<p>

"STOP!"

He didn't know what came over him, he just felt this awful surge of energy which burst out and before he knew what he was doing he'd launched himself across the yard, making grabs at the ignited fuses in an attempt to extinguish them. He was between Yamamoto, who was still petrified in that spot, and Gokudera, who was staring at a bright light on Tsuna's forehead.

* * *

><p>Gokudera distantly remembered perfectly wonderful sunny afternoons spent rifling through the bookshelves in his dad's study, the logbook on which he had been so fixated on and the picture of something which he had believed to be only legendary-<p>

-the sky flame.

Then, this woman…

* * *

><p>Hibari went on a rampage the minute he spotted the dynamite among the commotion. Behind one of the school's main support columns, too.<p>

'Someone's trying to destroy Nami-Chuu. Bite them to death.' He concluded.

A shadowy figure, who had been stalking Hibari, had his attention caught by something else. 'Oya, well isn't this going to be interesting…'

"WHAT'S GOING ON TO THE EXTREME!"

* * *

><p>Core overheating…<p>

Core overheating…

Reactor Overload.

_.


	9. Acid Rain

_They say that, after a nuclear explosion or a meltdown of sorts; other effects will arise. When dark clouds gather, acid rain pours, which can wear down walls._

* * *

><p>"So class, this is your script for the play on the annual school festival. Don't get your parts wrong."<p>

(A/N): Excuse my horrible attempt at butchering Shakespearean English!

_"Your face, my lady." he gasped. "Is that of the one who hath saved me from thy tempest!"_

_The lonesome knight was transfigured with joy._

_"You cannot love him," The mistress turned her nose away in contempt for the knight's emboldened presumptions._

_"Fie, for shame!" the lady said, eyes blazing with inward fire. Then she reined the horse, which startled into a gallop._

_"Milady!"_

_"I wait upon thee!" the knight was quick to declare his loyalties, striding after the stallion._

Really, of all things to think of, Tsuna really shouldn't have been reminded of the scripture for the play.

But…

He was currently being pursued by two boys in knight suits, (one of which he recognized was distinctly _his) _their school's bellicose prefect who had wiped the floor one too many times with other students simply by making too much noise, or some other bigoted reason. _Oh_, another part of him belatedly realized. _And then there's that loud, easily excitable boxing club captain._

Wait, what? Tsuna paused in his steps. Another part of him.

"Don't stop!" A voice yelled, and an arm dragged him to the side, heading down a series of complicated alleys that wove between the neighborhood's backyards.

Backyards? They were that far out already?

And then suddenly he had overtaken that person, the hand holding him back jerking him violently.

"There's no need to run any further. I think we lost them."

"We?" Tsuna wondered out loud. He turned around…to see the face of Yamamoto Takeshi, looking undecided and serious at the same time.

"Yeah, we." He offered a grin to the nameless kimono-clad maiden in front of him. "Who are you, miss?"

"Miss?" Tsuna's confusion echoed. Then he slapped a hand over his mouth.

His face burned. Then he turned away.

Yamamoto's face darkened. He saw the lady's eyes flicker to his cast before she turned away.

"I knew it. I'm sorry, you probably don't want to get involved with me, right? After getting you into so much trouble…I guess I _am_ better off dead."

"Wha-?" Tsuna turned sharply around.

"Please, don't say anything in contrast. I'm probably only being kept around to play baseball for the school. You know it too, right?" Yamamoto let out a sigh, before his cheek burned with the impact of a slap.

"What on earth are you blabbering about!" Tsuna yelled at Yamamoto. "You mean you wanted that guy to kill you? That's incredibly stupid, even if I say so! And no, I don't know, and I probably don't want to! You're usually so cool and if I had even a tiny shred of the talent you had I wouldn't want death as much as I do now!"

Yamamoto simply stood there, holding his cheek, stunned as he watched the lady ramble on.

The lady's brown eyes shone with fiery indignance like the polished hazelnut handle of a flute.

"It's not fair that you're only out of commission temporarily because of your arm and you're complaining like that! Everyone smiles at you and praises you, and you aren't even sincere enough to give them a real smile in thanks for their adoration…you're frustrating, Yamamoto-san!" He exhaled deeply, then when he looked up the realization of the words he had just said hit him like a train-wreck.

"W-wait, I didn't mean to- I meant….Afasfigklpf!" The boy's cheeks flamed a bright red and his thoughts dissolved into incoherent mumbles.

"I-I take that all back, I'm sorr-" He held his hands in front of his face in a pleading gesture, only for his left to be grabbed by Yamamoto's own. The boy's face held small indication of relief, and…acceptance?

"No, don't apologize, I needed to hear that." Yamamoto mumbled. "Sorry, but do you think you could lend me your shoulder? I need a hug."

Before he could even agree, Tsuna found himself squeaking as he was enveloped into a firm embrace by one arm.

He awkwardly patted Yamamoto on the back in comfort, but realized he was probably being comforted as well. He felt warm, a lot warmer than the cold sheets of his mattress or his mostly vacant home.

He was still spaced out when Yamamoto pulled away slowly.

"Ahh, sorry, miss. It's just…I haven't gotten a hug in a long time right now, and no one really confronted me…" _Not since my mother died._

"But you just came and ripped down my curtain of insecurities and now, Gyun Gyun! I'm all better!" He smiled broadly.

Tsuna gawked. That was a quick change in character.

"Guess the team can do without me…haha, who am I to belittle their abilities? They'll do awesome!"

A drop of liquid plopped on Tsuna's cheek and rolled down his face.

"A-ah, i-it's raining." Tsuna realised.

"Oh, do you need a walk back home?" Yamamoto asked, right back to his normal self, scratching the back of his tousled black hair.

"N-no!" Tsuna blushed right up to where his "bangs" dipped to rest on the bridge of his nose.

"S-see you!" He said, turning and running, leaving Yamamoto standing in the rain.

"Hmm… boxers, huh?" Yamamoto noted absently, face blank.

He smiled.

* * *

><p><em>They met on a rainy day.<em>


End file.
